A Letter to China

            So you want to be a superpower.

            Ever since the peoples of Mesopotamia got together and decided to extend their influence, mankind has been working toward national supremacy.  Ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, the Mongols, the British Empire, the USSR, the United States—everybody wants to rule the world.

            But you—little, insignificant, 1.3 billion-strong you—have reached that coveted height.  Your economy is growing in leaps and bounds (thanks huddled masses!); your military is powerful and well-equipped; everybody wants to be your BFF.  Sometimes it seems as if the honeymoon will never end.

            But wait!  What’s this?  Why is everyone picking on you?  Why do all of the other countries criticize your policies (even while they trip over themselves to curry your favor)?  After all, you put on an outstanding opening event for the Olympics, replete with fireworks, computer graphics, fairies, and singing ventriloquists.  And what do you get for your hard work?  Criticism and accusations!

            Welcome to the sad truth of superpower-dom, China:  You can’t suppress the media in other countries.

            I sometimes wonder if the power is worth the cost.  Sure, you get to make international decisions that boost your power and enrich your upper classes, but then you get snagged on for all the consequences.  Who wouldn’t have sent money, arms, and tactical information to Islamic radicals to fight the USSR?  Who could have known they would later use the training and supplies to fight you?  Geez, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

            Or—get this—you innocently enroll a group of sixteen-year-old gymnasts in the Olympics and then the US won’t stop whining because it turns out they’re really fourteen.  Um, hello?  Their passports clearly say, “These girls are over sixteen, we swear.  No.  No, stop looking at the other documents…hey!  You put that evidence back!”

            If that weren’t bad enough, the stupid press keeps hauling out other matters that you’d long ago swept under the carpet (where they belonged, thank you).  Who cares if you support the carnage in Darfur?  What does it matter if you refuse to allow for any semblance of autonomy in Tibet?  (Up yours, Richard Gere!)  What’s so horrible about kicking a few…okay, many…all right, several tens of thousands of people out of their homes so the wealthy can develop the land for profit?  Boy, you get yelled at for being communist and then you get yelled at for being capitalist.  There’s just no pleasing some people.

            Oh, and if you never hear “human rights” again, it’ll be too soon.  Look, you gave the world paper, gun powder, chopsticks, Ramen noodles, Jackie Chan, kung fu, and cold fusion.  Sometimes, down the road to progress, you have to break a couple eggs…or people.  Y’know, one person’s “human rights” is another person’s “keeping the peace.”

            My heart goes out to you, China.  You’ve been promoted to the big leagues and it’s a difficult adjustment.  Therefore, I urge you to take some of your cues from more learned superpowers:

 

1.      Think of a good justification for breaking a law before you break it.

2.      Hire the most brilliant spokespeople you can find.

3.      Throw money and supplies at other governments.

4.      Two words:  Plausible deniability.

5.      Don’t break the little rules—even with the IOC.

6.      Threaten to get tough when the situation is appropriate but do not intervene.  Are India and Pakistan on the verge of nuclear war?  Has Columbia impinged on Ecuador’s sovereignty?  Offer to mediate.  Offer money.  Offer advice.  Under no circumstances, however, should you get directly involved.  It never works out.

7.      Choose likeable presidents.

 

 

            Yes, by following these simple rules, you, too, can enjoy the many pleasures of being a superpower.  So buck up, China, and enjoy the limelight—just remember to do your dirty work in the dark.

Tags: china, criticism, superpower